Again and Again
Jun. 11th, 2004 08:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphThe acorn woodpeckers who spent the rainy days of winter sheltering on the lee side of the utility pole in front of my house are back -- at least it's probably the same group. Today they appear to be having a great time, swooping and gliding, chattering, chasing one another about, pausing now and then for a snack from the pole or a tree. One of them sits on a telephone wire, watching the others. I wonder what is going on in its tiny, bobbing head?
Thin but extensive clouds are allowing the suns heat to accumulate, and I suspect that the night may be long in bringing that coolness on which I depend to keep Sluggo even moderately happy. The air's doldrums threatens to evoke the namesake mood in me. As evening shades the still street and the sky undergoes that final brightening which precedes dusk, I find myself slipping into melancholy. Another night of isolation looms, with only the usual mundane tasks to distract me. I want to go somewhere, but there is nowhere to go and, in any case, I would be unable to leave. If only Sluggo were more reliable.
Thin but extensive clouds are allowing the suns heat to accumulate, and I suspect that the night may be long in bringing that coolness on which I depend to keep Sluggo even moderately happy. The air's doldrums threatens to evoke the namesake mood in me. As evening shades the still street and the sky undergoes that final brightening which precedes dusk, I find myself slipping into melancholy. Another night of isolation looms, with only the usual mundane tasks to distract me. I want to go somewhere, but there is nowhere to go and, in any case, I would be unable to leave. If only Sluggo were more reliable.
